


Fun Sized

by Real Life Inspires (Teddy_Feathers)



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Adoption, Alternate Universe - Underfell, Bitty reader, Giant monsters, Pet, Reader Insert, mentions of abuse, reverse bitty tale
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-01
Updated: 2017-01-30
Packaged: 2018-07-28 17:33:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7650052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Teddy_Feathers/pseuds/Real%20Life%20Inspires
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So you know Bitty Bones and such? Wanted to do a reverse bitty story. So instead of adopting a cute little monster, you're the one being taken home and loved... Well. Possibly. Your owner is an underfell sans and he didn't exactly want a house pet and you weren't exactly happy about your agency being taken away.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I came up with this idea, asked a friend what they thought and their answer was  
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/6259684/chapters/14343064  
> Rivethart's Bitty Reader Adventures.   
> They're amazing go read them trust me you won't regret it. They're doing all the 'verses too.

You woke up for the first time in a lab. You were poked and prodded and offered no explanation.  They tested your motor skills, checked your vitals, ignored your loud demands for answers, and scanned you. When you had completed all their tests, they handed you a white hospital gown and tossed you in a clear prison.

The floor was carpeted, and it wasn’t cold but you shivered anyways crossing your arms over your shift. Fabulous first day of existence. Surrounded by literal monsters larger than you, put through your paces, and then shoved into a plexiglass box. There were others in here with you, also wearing hospital gowns and chatting with one another seemingly unperturbed by the situation you all found yourselves in.

One of the others detached himself from the group, heading over to you with a friendly smile. Great. Just what you wanted. An optimist.

“Hey first day? Don’t worry we’ve all been there, but trust me you’re going to love it here!” He flashed you a grin so wide you half hoped it’d split his head in half and spare you the trouble of having to deal with him.

Your judgmental silence did nothing to deter him, he just stood there waiting for your answer with that happy smile on his face. Idiot. You rolled your eyes. “Yeah. Whoopty freaking do. Just a fun filled summer at sleep away camp.”

His smile didn’t dim, but his eyes were warm with understanding. Your hands tightened on your arms. So what if sarcasm was a defense mechanism? You didn’t need his pity. He was the one too stupid to see what was going on here.

“Hey now, I know your scared,” Scared? You were furious. “but not to worry! Any day now you’ll be adopted and get to go home with your very own monster!” His happy go lucky attitude was starting to piss you – wait did he say _adopted_?

Looking around the room, outside of the clear walls, you saw what he meant. It was a pet store. The posters on the walls detailing the care and training of pseudohumans, tiny doll house style supplies lined the shelves, and monsters pressing their faces against the front window just waiting for the place to open. Your hands dropped to your sides and clenched into fists.

“Rather have been a lab rat.” You growled out.

The guy by your side laughed and patted you on the shoulder. “Oh come now, it’s not all that bad! You’ll see.” He left you to go back and hang with the main group of humans. No pseudohumans. Fake. You weren’t a real human.

The posters had a wealth of information even if it was demeaning to find out what you were not from your creator or through self-discovery, but from a poster targeted at children.

Before you could even contemplate escape it was denied to you. Apparently your kind were made off of harvested soul essence. Lacking a proper soul of your own you needed to either be fed magical food regularly or have a close bond with your owner so their magic could stabilize you.

Magical food didn’t go bad. So even if you got away you go into magic withdrawal or something, destabilize, and poof – no longer exist. You needed a plan, like live in a grocery store where you could find both a plethora of life sustaining food and places to hide.

No way were you going to let anyone own you.

When the shop finally opened you were disgusted with your fellow ‘bitty humans’. They actively sought out the grabbing hands. They leaned into the touches and put their hands up begging to be picked up, or taken home. They let themselves be cooed at and complimented the monsters to flatter and appease them. It was sickening.

Hands reached for you too, voices commenting on your shyness seeing as you were huddled in the corner, but you smacked and bit and yelled until the monsters jerked away. Some admired your ‘bravery’ wondering if that was your trait. They called you spunky. Said you just needed some training, some TLC.

By lunch you were exhausted, but had managed to convince everyone that the only love you wanted involved exp.

The oh so nice guy from before meandered over while there was a lull in customers. He sat down next to you and shot you a sympathetic look that made your teeth grind.

“Hey you really need to calm down; it’s not as bad as you think.” He gestured over to the play area where a family sat with a bitty human getting to know each other. “They take you home, love you, it’s a companionship.”

Shooting to your feet, for the first time in your life looming over someone else, you yelled at him. “No it’s not! They’re selling us! We’re worse than slaves we’re pets. Our feelings don’t matter to them at all; we count as nothing more than animals! We have no choice!”

Looking worried at your vehemence, the guy shook his head. “No if you don’t feel a connection with your owner you can deny the adoption.”

That wasn’t a choice. Why didn’t this guy get it? Why didn’t anyone see it? Or were they happy to ignore the harsh reality in exchange for what? Treats, head pets, being told they were a good human, a nice human? They were allowing themselves to be conditioned to ignore their right to self-determination!

He just looked up at you, like you were crazy, the poor pseudohuman with delusions of sentience…

Don’t know how you got there but suddenly you were on top of him, hitting him relentlessly.  He obviously hadn’t been expecting it and flailed uselessly below you with no idea how to get you off.

He cried for help after every hit.

Somebody came.

A hand gripped you around the middle, pulling you up and away from your punching bag. Store staff grabbed him and were currently coaxing sea tea into the bruised, battered, and bleeding bitty human. Your breath came out in angry pants and a sense of satisfaction filled you, even as the hand holding you turned you around to face your captor.

It was a skeleton monster, grinning at you. You spit at him, aiming for an eye socket but of course it fell short. His sharp tooth grin stretched wider and you swore if he even thought about calling you cute you would –

“Sir I am so sorry for the disturbance. We hadn’t realized that there was a defective one in the new batch.” The staff lady’s voice from behind you was apologetic and you could feel softer hands brushing against your back to take you away.

You bared your teeth at the word defective. There was nothing wrong with you. Red eye lights flicked to you and then to the woman behind you. His hand tightened a bit around your middle and he pulled you up against his chest. You could smell sweat and mustered.  Gross.

“s’fine. this is the one I want anyways.” What? You glared up at him past the red expanse of his dirty shirt, but his attention was on the bear monster wringing her hands anxiously.

“Oh but sir, we don’t normally sell the feral ones. They aren’t stable. Its kinder to just put them down before they hurt themselves or others.” They were going to euthanize you? You struggled but the hand remained tight around you and you couldn’t wiggle free.

“nah. its not feral. just a little spitfire is all.” You considered biting him, but you’d probably do more damage to your teeth than his hand. Besides, if it was him or death you’d take him.

“I’m not sure – maybe I should call the manager?” Right. You had to sell this quick fast and in a hurry. You stopped struggling and patted the hand to get his attention. He looked down and so did the bear, and you rubbed your face against his thumb and shot them both the biggest eyes you could muster.

A finger rubbed your head, perhaps a bit harder than could be considered friendly, but you leaned into it like you’d seen the others do all afternoon and tried to make a purring sound with your tongue.  You could practically feel the shop lady’s heart melt.

“Oh my. They haven’t behaved like that with anyone else; they must have really taken to you!” She gushed and you rolled your eyes. The skeleton continued mussing your hair and shot you a wink before turning his attention back to the bear monster.

“what can i say? gotta way with animals. raised my baby bro after all.” She tittered and you gagged, but it seemed like it was working. This jerk wanted to buy you, which would both save your life and give you an opportunity to escape.

Things were looking up. Happy freaking birthday to you.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... I got a lot of positive feedback really fast on this (why are you here, help I’m scared) kudos and comments and all... And was wondering what ya'll wanted outta this? 
> 
> Anywho uh. thanks, really. Know you prob won't like this but this is prob the fastest I've updated something so... thanks for the motivation you awesome readers. Sorry to bug.

The bear lady made him fill out a ridiculous amount of paperwork before letting him take you home. You played your part, being good, sitting nearby, and pretending you didn’t want to take the pen away from him and stab him with it every time he reached over to muss your hair with his boney finger.

Phalange.

Whatever.

Jerk was obviously just as irritated with the process as you were. He hid his eye rolling and scoffs pretty well, mostly by being ‘adorable’ with you to cover it up. But you were good. You behaved like the other stupid little pseudohumans, grabbed his finger when he tried to pull away, pouted when he ignored you and such.

Honestly you were pretty good partners in crime, having sized one another up almost immediately. Occasionally you’d make rude gestures in the shop ladies direction when she wasn’t looking, and he’d shoot you a wink.

Things were going fine. As soon as he got you out of the shop you were _gone_. You had it all planned out.

Should have known better really.

You’d been listening intently as ‘Sans’ – so said his lazily scrawled signature – singed his life away. Apparently you were an exotic pet that had lots of very specific care and handling instructions. Oh. And you came with a warranty.

Wasn’t that just tooth grindingly _lovely._

You supposed it worked out for your partner in crime here. He could claim the ‘defective’ bitty went up in smoke before he even got you home and get a new one free of charge.

Everyone won right? Wrong. Shop lady decided to finally drop the other shoe.

“Now we just have to create your soul bond and you’ll be set to go with your new darling!” She gushed as if she hadn’t just both ruined your life _again_ and said something completely outrageous.

“wanna run that by me again?” Oh goody, he sounded just as pissed as you felt. As he leaned forward to fix the bear monster with a glare you considered making a run for the door. Then again even if they didn’t notice, how would you get the huge thing open?

“Oh – um – well I thought you knew?” She sounded flustered and you didn’t blame her. He was radiating a warmth that had nothing to do with body heat and everything to do with the magical equivalent of a threat display. Power radiated out from Sans, transforming him from the grubby skeleton you’d seen so far into a dark and foreboding figure.

Yeah, there was no way you were letting this creepy guy own you. Any possible doubts you had on that front fled. Before you couldn’t wait to prove that you were more than the semi-intelligent teacup pet that the lady had painted you, now it seemed really important he never realized how smart you really were. Because if he aimed any of that powerful magic at you, you were _never_ going to get away.

“knew **what**?” His voice dropped two octaves and you remained still, very conscious of how much larger he was than you. His reaction was one you shared though. Souls were very personal, you didn’t share them with just anyone, and having a third party _forcing_ a bond was just… Sicking really.

Even back when humans were alone on the surface and didn’t know about souls they knew there were only two things that really let you look inside another person and forge an understanding or a connection. ‘All’s fair in love and war’ they’d say, and that was even truer for monsters – beings that were just a physical manifestation of their soul. A person didn’t just ask to see a soul, let alone tie someone else to one!

“Sir really, we’ve already been over this. Bitty humans aren’t just any sort of pets, they’re lifelong companions.” The skeletons threating demeanor didn’t diminish any, and she huffed. “They’re just like children, formed of magic and a small bit of soul excess. They can’t survive without being tied to a supporting soul that will keep them stable with a steady diet of magic.”

Sans looked like he was going to murder her any minute, but then took a deep breath and seemed to suck in all of the crackling energy he’d been exuding. “thought you fed ‘em magic food here in the shop. can’t I just –”  The woman cut him off with a stern headshake.

“A diet of food magic won’t do them any good unless and until they develop an actual soul of their own, though we do recommend supplementing the support they receive from their owners in the case of weaker monsters, or when you’re going to be leaving them alone for an extended period of time.” She inspected your dejected face and his grimacing one, and apparently came to the wrong conclusion.

“I understand if you’re not comfortable with this sir, it is a huge commitment.” A furry hand reached for you and instinctively you got up and dashed away from her. You weren’t going back into the damn glass box. It didn’t matter if you weren’t real, didn’t have a soul, you weren’t a pet and you weren’t going back into that box.

In your panicked flight you reached the edge of the desk and _leapt_ barely managing to get a firm hold on the skeleton’s jacket. You clung for dear life because wow was high up here, and your feet couldn’t find purchase on the black material. Feet scrambled wildly while you berated yourself for acting before thinking, until a firm surface interposed itself under you.

Even though the hand held steady, you kept your firm grip on the jacket as you glared up at Sans. Sure this was a setback. But she had also just said you could grow your own soul. You were _not_ going back into the box with the others, you _were_ going to escape, and he was _not_ getting out of this now that you were so close.

His low chuckle was like a small earthquake and you fell back onto your rear. “guess i can’t ‘zactly say no to that face now can i?” You flushed, increasing your hard stare one hundred fold for all the good it did you. Jerk face found your anger cute. You’d _show_ him cute.

“Sir this isn’t something to do lightly, if you’re at all unsure –” Sans interrupted her with a shake of his head.

“nah nah, this’ll still be fine. let’s get this over with.”

 

* * *

 

 

You were obedient all the way ‘home’. If you thought about it, you could feel the small line of magic feeding from him into you. Neither one of you were terribly happy about it, but whatever he had planned for you made it worth it to him. And you… You would grow your soul, snap the bond, and get the heck out of dodge. Never would you concede to being a pet. You were just bidding your time.   

He dropped you off in a minimalistic, yet filthy, room. Gave you a bowl, filled it from a random bottle laying around, and left saying something about needing a drink.

You glared at the bowl and considered tipping it over in spite – you were bipedal not a freaking dog or something! – but if it had magic in it to tide you over until he got back it’d probably be safer to drink it right? Didn’t want to stunt your soul growth or go poof or something.

The first sip confirmed it definitely was _not_ water. It tasted like room temperature vodka. Gross, really strong, and you were technically a newborn. Then again…It had been a _long_ day.

An hour or so later came the sounds of rushing feet, panicked instead of heavy and angry. Funny how much you could tell about your ‘owner’ just by how he was walking.

You wondered what the hell was wrong with him before deeming it unimportant. You felt good, actually relaxed for the first time in your life. The slob wasn’t going to take that away from you, he already had taken enough as far as you were concerned.

He scooped you off the table, red eyes flicking anxiously over your flushed face. His skull was covered in a light sheen of red sweat. Plopping down heavily in his hands you took the time to really study him as he inspected you. He looked tired and stressed.

“You looked like shit dude.” Surprisingly the words came out clear despite how fuzzy headed you felt. You probably weren’t actually drunk, but the alcohol had certainly taken the edge off. Enough to actually speak to him at any rate.

There hadn’t been any point before, back when you were still plotting and planning escape. Before you’d learned you were stuck with him until you’d ‘matured’.

Stupid symbiosis.

Maybe it felt so long ago because your life span was as short as you were. Depressing thought that.

One of his fingers poked you in the stomach, and you smacked it. Probably did more damage to your hand than him, but it got your point across.

“can you get alcohol poisoning?” He sounded worried, which was odd since you didn’t peg him as the type.

Shrugging you said, “Does it matter?” Because again. You came with a _warranty_. He could get another freaking _pet_ if you died.

You were starting to think maybe draining the bowl had been a bad idea. Sure you felt good for a while, but alcohol was ultimately a depressant.

“got you to fight other bitty humans in the ring.” He was carrying you somewhere, out of the filthy room at least. Not that it mattered since you couldn’t go anywhere or do anything on your own. Freaking helpless without an _owner._ “can’t do that if you’re dead.”

“Pseudo humans. And I won’t.” The friendly guys face slowly collapsing under your fists came to mind. It’d felt good at the time, but he hadn’t deserved that had he? Probably why this jerk was so interested in you. ‘Aggressive tendencies’ would be good in some sort of cage fight.

He snorted, sliding you off his hand and onto the kitchen table. “oh yeah? why’s that? its kill or be killed in the ring.”

The room was spinning, but you could tell he was getting you a glass of water. It was better in a way that he only cared about you as an investment, a tool. Better than being a pet and better than him actually having grown attached to you.

You’d just grow your soul and be on your way.

“Because you want me too.” Whoops did you say that out loud? Probably shouldn’t have. He might squish you and cash in on your warranty. Then where would you be? Dead. Poof.

The glass thunked down next to you, with a long straw bent over the side. “well how about i say you should never fight another human?”

Really?

“Reverse psychologically works a hell of a lot better if the person you’re using it on doesn’t know what sort of shit you’re pulling.” You managed a couple of pulls of water before giving up and collapsing on the table.

“For the love of - how do you even know this shit? You’re a pet fresh outta the lab.” His face loomed above you, sharp toothed and smiling, though his tone told you he was far from happy. Well so were you.

“I sprung fully formed from the mind of Zeus.” You responded absently, counting the healed cracks that spiderwebbed across his skull. Skeleton scars you supposed.

“Whut?” His honest confusion brought you back on topic and you sat up with a groan trying to focus your dizzy mind.

“Look. They just took some of the aura, extra soul essence from stored souls combined it with some magic and made a pseudo human right?" You nodded to yourself not needing his input for your lecture. "Right. Well think about it. A soul is everything a person is. The things that made them up are in me. Its why we come out as little adults instead of cute little human babies.” That was what you’d pieced together so far. You weren’t just a being created out of magic to be a pet. No. Worse than that, you were a poor copy of someone long dead.

“Great. I bought a fuckin' nerd.”

That struck your tipsy brain as funny and you laughed. Laughed until tears ran down your face, and the snorts became sobs. Then the sobs became darkness.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slow updates and short chapters. Why are you reading this again?

It wasn’t the yelling that had woken you, though that didn’t help your aching head any. It was the soul crushing feeling of guilt. Groggily you sat up and looked around to see that you were in a dark crevice, one that moved and shifted around you.

Your stomach rolled at the movement, and you turned to face the source of ambient light. This was…A pocket. Why were you in a pocket again?

The loud harsh voice, yelled and the stiff fabric bunched around you closer. Through the sharp lances of pain in your skull you couldn’t make out what it - he? - was so angry about. At every pause in the spew of words came a secondary sick feeling, causing a bitter taste of self-loathing to mix with whatever had died in your mouth.

As far as hangovers go, this one had you scared straight. No more alcohol for you – who the hell wanted to feel this shitty?

There was a low rumble, familiar. Sans. Your owner. That’s right, you were a pet, literally tied to his soul. It must be his pocket you were in. Acknowledging it seemed to tune you into the bond consciously and you finally realized that while you might be hungover, most of what you were experiencing wasn’t yours – it was his misery. But why was he so upset about the yelli-

**CRACK**

The world tilted – jerked – around you. Another wave of nausea and pain flooded the bond, and despite not being your experiences, your stomach heaved and you almost passed out from the sudden feeling of your head barely resisting the urge to cave.

_There was panic – so much fear and pain – you were going to die, you were going to collapse into nothing, he’d finally gone too far –_

With all your might you tried to block it out, feebly curled up into yourself telling yourself it was okay it wasn’t real, it wasn’t _you_. But his fear of dying triggered yours, you didn’t want to die, _you didn’t want to die, please anything to make it stop_ – how do you make it stop?

You couldn’t control it, you couldn’t replace it with something easier to handle like anger, everything seemed to be distorted and _you couldn’t breathe_.

Breathe.

To calm a panic attack you focus on controlling your breathing. You can’t control anything else but you can control your breathing.

Slowly you inhaled, trying to focus on nothing but the feeling of air expanding your lungs, your chest, your stomach, until it was too tight. Then you held it for a moment before slowly, painfully slow, you released it. Empty, you began again.

It took several cycles for you not to forget to breathe or to not start hyperventilating. Felt like hours of just ‘good air in, bad air out’ but eventually the pocket seemed to expand and shrink in time with your breathing.

For as long as it felt, only a short time of tense silence had passed.

Seeing as Sans hadn’t dusted yet, and it no longer seemed to be an imminent possibility, the cruel voice spoke again. At a much lower and distinctive tone, with enough disgust encased in it that even without the soul bond you could feel your heart drop out of your chest.

"Look what you made me do. So pathetic. How could someone so great be saddled with such a disappointment for a brother? Get out of my sight before I finish the job."

Hard stomping, followed by a heavily slammed door followed the dismissal. Despite just having woken you felt physically and emotionally drained.

What had just happened?

The shuffling feet of your owner sent chills through you. Could footsteps sound hopeless?

You didn’t want to be feeling this, feeling bad for the giant monster. Feeling how bad _he_ felt. How intimate and horrible to know he believed he _deserved_ this.

There was the sound of a door snicking shut and the ambient light in the pocket cut out. The world tilted sideways and you fell out of the pocket and onto the mattress as Sans settled himself on the bed with a groan.

He was out like a light, and with his consciousness went _his_ pain. In comparison your hangover was no more intense than having an annoying song stuck in your head.

Second day… First night? Really you had no idea how much time had passed… Already though you were faced with yet another harsh reality of life.

Being a pet was more than distasteful to you, being bound to someone who saw you as a commodity was also exceedingly unpleasant. However, having just seen – felt? – what had just transpired you wondered if perhaps his situation was just as bad, if not worse than yours.

While you were stuck with the giant skeleton until you grew a soul, he seemed to be stuck without such an obvious escape.

That voice had called itself his brother. His brother had almost killed him, and even now Sans felt weak and thready through the bond like he was barely holding on.

Something stirred in you. Did you care?

No.

Of course not.

It was just self-preservation.

That’s it.

You weren’t feeling sorry for him, weren’t empathizing more than was forced on you because of the bond. No. It was just if he died so would you right now.

Yes you were stuck with him...

and he was stuck with you too.

You _weren’t_ going to stick around longer than necessary, but seeing as you were here... No reason not to earn your keep. _Not_ as his _pet_ but as someone that he just happened to be helping out.

In a way you were sick, and he was helping nurse you back to health by sharing his soul energy until yours was stable… It would be only right if you made things even between you two.

Payback.

Simple transaction.

That’s all.

Climbing the sleeping skeleton was a hard task, and on the way up you questioned if this was a safe, well thought out plan, or if it was simply rationalization for something you’d made up your mind to do.

Did it matter? Either way this was something you had to do. Before the link to him had felt like a steady stream, but now it was sluggish and sickly. That couldn’t be a good sign.

Following it across his torso, you eventually found the source. His soul wasn’t visible from under his shirt, but you could feel it there, weakly struggling where his heart would be if he was human. 

If this worked you were going to feel even _worse_ in the morning.

You may not have some fancy magic but you did have a soul bond. Right now it was feeding you life sustaining energy, but soul bonds were two way streets right? Stood to reason at any rate.

Curling up directly above his soul, you concentrated hard on the link between you…and pushed _back_. You didn’t have much to give but… It took all of the monsters to equal one human soul. A fraction of a soul, some soul essence was just as good as a monster soul right?

“Don’t get any funny ideas about this.” You muttered as the draining feeling sank in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anywho ya'll are awesome. So thank you.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I dunno how it compares to the rest of this mess but uh hey its done. 
> 
> At least I know what's going on in the next chapter that's good right... hopefully you won't have to wait as long. Sorry.
> 
> In other news I know exactly which soul the bitty reader was made from. and it wasn't at ALL what I was thinking / leaning towards which to me makes it FUN. If you want to indulge me you can guess ^~^
> 
> Hope ya'll are doing okay.

The next time you awoke you felt… Really good actually.

Healthy.

Checking the bond you could feel the flow was going the right way, keeping you stabilized. Seeing as you didn’t wake up in or as a pile of dust, the day was off to a good start.

The room was empty; the bowel from the other day filled, but seemingly miles away on the table across the room from the bed.

Even assuming you could get down from where you were, how were you going to get up the straight legs of the table?

Then again you didn’t have much of a choice. The threat of simply going ‘poof’ hung over your head like your personal sword of Damocles.

A large part of you was resentful. You had risked your existence to help the skelehole, the least he could do was improve the odds of your survival.

Really what had you expected though?

Gripping the sheets you attempted to rappel down the side of the bed. You leapt off the side facing the surface; knees bent and ready to take an impact that never came. Instead the sheets jerked when they ran out of slack causing your hands to slip and you to fall to your death.

Time slowed in that way it does when your mind races with panic but there were no flashes of your brief life, no last regrets, and when you hit the ground there was no explosion into a pile of dust.

The force of you hitting the ground had winded you, but after a few moments of persuading your racing heart that you were fine - and your lungs that it was okay to breathe – you sat up and took a look around.

This was the floor.

Dirty, laundry covered, god knows what shoved under the bed, and all.

_How… oh. Right. I’m not human._ That’s what it amounted to at any rate. You were the size of mouse, and like a mouse – or any small creature – your terminal velocity was lower. Meaning that while a proportional fall for an actual human would be fatal, you had merely been stunned. In addition to your size, you were probably created to be a bit more durable.

For once the thought of being a creation, a product, didn’t do more than leave a bitter taste in your mouth. There were benefits at least.

 

Before you could stand and attempt to figure out how you were going to climb a table leg, the door opened and in shuffled your host.

His red eye lights flicked between you as you stood and the bed, and then from the bed to the table. His solution to his poor skills as a host was to roughly grab you and drop you on the table’s surface. You glared at his back as he rummaged around the room, but didn’t vocalize your complaint.

You could give him a piece of your mind after you’d made sure you’d survive the day. 

The water tasted off like it had been out too long, making you wonder just how long you’d slept. Next to the bowel was a vaguely you-sized white shirt and sweatpants. Changing into them you marveled at how much of a difference a clean change of clothes could do for your overall feeling.

You were practically in a good mood now.

“pick’a number.” Sans loomed over you – though to be fair, judging based on proportions of the giants you’d seen thus far you were one of the only people he could loom over – holding a sharpie.

Crossing your arms, you gave him a suspicious stare. “Why?” You demanded, even though you had a good guess, there was no way you were making this easy on him.

Instead of glaring he shrugged back. “pick or i pick for ya.”

You debated your options; it wasn’t like you could hide in his pig sty of a room. You actually had to be cared for, as much as the whole thing disgusted you, to survive. But you’d told him you wouldn’t fight.

Well… He could put you in the damn ring but he couldn’t make you fight. Surely you could just run around until the bell rang or forfeit or something?

The sharpie started moving towards you and you turned and spread your arms to give him a flat canvas on your back. “Forty-two. The meaning of life, the universe, and everything.”

Wetness seeped in and stained your back, and you just _knew_ you were going to smell like permanent marker for ages.

“well someone found their spoons.”

You rolled your eyes as you tried to not fall over while he wrote. “go fork yourself smiley.”

There was a hesitation and then the sharpie was set down on the table next to you. “whisky. Better measure your words carefully.” Turning you tried to get a feeling for his tone. It wasn’t threatening and it wasn’t pleased. His face was… pleasantly bland.

“please don’t expect me to play knife with you.” You said carefully, testing him.

Sweat appeared on his brow, little red drops of discomfort dripping down his skull as he glanced at his bedroom door before letting his eyes flick back to you. 

“it’d be grate if you _would_ cut into the ring. Really slice into your enemies and earn me some dough.”

“Guess it’s just icing on the cake that I haven’t any enemies.”

His grin relaxed for a second, but instead of replying his eyes flicked to the door again and he tensed, scooping you up and shoving you in his pocket. Forcibly being dragged against the inside of a pocket chaffed your exposed skin, pulled at your hair, and the hand gripping your waist didn’t let go. Instead it just tightened until you were sure you were going to have phalange shaped bruises.

A door slammed open somewhere in the house and that angry loud voice from before rattled around the walls. “Sans! Don’t make me drag you from that sty of a room, I will not tolerate being late!”

His hand tightened and you struggled and let out a hissed “let go.” The hand loosened but stayed wrapped around you as he shuffled out the door and towards the sound of an impatiently tapping boot.

“heh sorry boss, just uh slept in.”

“Your laziness is hardly an excuse at this point. You’re treading thin ice already. I suggest you do not cross me today.”

“what?”

“don’t think I don’t notice you sneaking around, trying to get your wounds healed behind my back.” There was the sound of bone striking bone, a loud crack but no sickening crunch, and the flash of pain was quickly shut down instead of flooding the bond. “I want those marks to heal naturally, let the lessons really sink in. Do you understand?”

“y-yeah boss. ‘course.” Sans sounded shaky but otherwise stable, and you realized today you hadn’t been getting any read on him from the bond; that the anger you felt was all yours.

“Since you slept in you should have no trouble staying awake, and seeing who leaves and enters our region and take proper notes of it. I’ll be back to check your progress periodically. _Do not_ fail me.”

It was stupid to feel angry on his behalf. It was stupid to want to get involved and give some asshat eleven times your size a taste of his own medicine to defend some other asshat who thought he owned you… but instead of trying to pull out of the hand clutching you like some type of stress toy, you found your hands gripping his just as hard as he was you. You were beyond furious.

Finally the hand pulled you from the pocket and set you on another wooden surface. Looking around you saw a… well some sort of stand, though it was surrounded by snow and looked too roughed up to be used by children selling lemonade.

Jaw tightly clenched you walked over to the wall and punched it. That didn’t satisfy the confused whirl of emotions in you, so you hit it again. And then again.

_Fuck this wall in particular._ Everything else was too complicated to puzzle out right then.  

“should be saving that temper for the ring.”

“I’m not going to fight.” You said, jerking around to glare at him.

“then you’ll die.” He looked tired. Even managed to have worn grooves under his sockets like bags.

You didn’t _want_ to feel sorry for him. “What do you even need the money for? Do you not get paid for this job?”

“course I do, but I gotta support my bro too.”

For a moment you simply stared at him, incredulous. Then you made an obvious show of looking around him and then turning to look outside the stand.

“who the hell you looking for?”

“your other brother. I refuse to believe you support _that_.”

“sure my bro’s a bit rough around the edges but he’s –”

“a narcissistic abusive fuckwad?”

His eyes flicked out and a hand reached out towards you. “don’t talk about my brother like that you stupid little – ” Abruptly he cut off and looked away. “you don’t understand.”

Hands on hips you ground out, “you’re right. I don’t. Just like how I can’t understand the rights of an entire race being determined by their creators.”

“…whatever. I’m gonna sleep. hide if he comes back.”

He was out like a light, head resting on the counter softly snoring. The new cracks, cutting across the still fresh and raised healed marks from yesterday, bothered you.

You turned and punched the wall again. This time your knuckles split and bled.

 

A person walked by, glanced at the sleeping sans, and kept walking.

You sat unnoticed, leaning against his arm and watched her go wondering what the point of this job even was.

The bunny woman had been carrying a picnic basket. It didn’t seem like the weather for it so more power to her.

With a sigh you dragged the clipboard out from under Sans’ elbow – he didn’t stir – and picked up the pen. It wasn’t heavy, but it was awkward. You managed to scribble down her description and made up a reason for her to be crossing the border – the border to what exactly you weren’t sure – and then sat back down.

You told yourself you weren’t doing this for _him._ You were just bored out of your mind.

The rest of the morning passed much the same, most just walking past when they saw sans sleeping… The few who hesitated seemed to trigger some sort of threat response in the skeleton, as he’d lift his face enough to open a single red filled socket and they’d move on quickly about their business. You noted it all – marking the hesitations as aggressive to round out the list. It was boring but it gave you something to do.

Around noon you heard the familiar strides of Sans’ so called brother, and without thinking too much about it you bolted up Sans’ arm and up into his jacket. The movement of you sliding below his coats fuzzy neck line and clinging to his clavicle startled him enough that he was both up and alert when papyrus stomped up to the check booth.

You could see the hand that had been attempting to reach you and pry you off hesitate before the fingers scratched at the neck before slipping casually back out of the coat. The bone you were wrapped tightly around rose up in a shrug and then settled as the voice you easily hated most in the world right now spoke.

“Report.” He growled and the world around you moved as Sans picked up and passed over the clipboard.  

There were several minutes of tense silence. “So… after months of you claiming no one bothered to come this way, only for me to learn otherwise else, where you’ve finally started doing your job?”

There was a barely noticeable tremble to his bones and you could _feel_ them start to perspire. “think uh… your last lesson really sunk in, need to be doing better by you, boss.”

As you both waited for his response, you could feel some of Sans fear slip through the bond. Looking down you saw his soul, a small cracked thing that glowed but so faintly you wondered if it could be snuffed out if you blew it out like a candle.

“I see… Well then. Carry on.” He sounded almost put out, but the upside down heart below you pulsed a little brighter with relief.

 

Neither of you mentioned the incident after Papyrus left. Sans simply sitting there, staring emptily out towards the tree line while you continued to fill out the form as the occasional person crossed the border.

More people were leaving than coming through, and everyone who came back this way had crossed over earlier in the day.

Your anger had been set on the back burner to simmer as you thought the situation – his as well as yours – over.

“What are you going to use the money for?” You finally asked.

Sans didn’t seem surprised you broke the silence. “to buy a commission for my bro in the royal guard.”

He continued staring out into nothing, and after a moment you gave up looking at him for answers. The skeleton was as expressive as a rock right now. When you looked away to echo his thousand yard stare into nothing, there was a palatable relaxation of tension you hadn’t realized had been forming.

“You should use that money to get as far away as fast as you can from him.”

“you don’t get to decided that.”

In fact this was perhaps the least stressful you’d ever felt. A strange calm was seeping in from the bond, like how the cold seeped into you if you held still for too long.

“And you don’t get to decided that I’m going to fight for you.” Despite replaying an argument you’d already had, you were relaxed. As if nothing could quite reach you or matter.

“you won’t have a choice.” It was almost scary how empty he – and through him, you – felt right now.

But there was that warmth, that spite, that defiance fighting back against the apathy. Something in you wouldn’t accept giving up and just letting things be like _this._

“There is always a choice.” And that, whatever that feeling was, was at the core of your being. You weren’t what you were made to be, what others wanted to make you. You were what you made yourself, and you refused to stand for any of this.

“only one that lets you survive.” There was an old, heavy weight there behind his words before whatever you were filling up with, whatever that was disgusted with just letting horrible things stand just because that was ‘just the way things were’, spilled between you and seemed to push him back into himself.

Sans shook his head and really looked at you – like you existed – for the first time.

You met his eyes unflinchingly. “I’d rather be dead than unable to live with myself.”

 

You honestly weren’t sure that you were talking about the bitty ring anymore.  


End file.
